


All These Half-Hours

by farfetched



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arguing, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flowers, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Relationship Discussions, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 23:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17477210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfetched/pseuds/farfetched
Summary: It wasn't meant to happen like this.He's captain, one of his more capable players is in front of him and he-He can't do anything to stop this train from crashing, the explosion from happening. It's the look in his eyes, the nervous wringing of his hands, Kenjirou knows exactly what is happening right now- and he doesn't want it to happen at all.(Or, Goshiki confesses to Shirabu, forcing him to actually think and confront his own thoughts and feelings on the matter.)





	All These Half-Hours

It wasn't meant to be like this. 

"Shirabu-san-" 

He wasn't even sure what 'it' was, but he knew it wasn't meant to go like this. 

"I-" 

He's captain, one of his more capable players is in front of him and he- 

He can't do anything to stop this train from crashing, the explosion from happening. It's the look in his eyes, the nervous wringing of his hands, Kenjirou knows exactly what is happening right now- 

"I love you!" 

\- and he doesn't want it to happen at all. 

He has better things to do, bigger things to worry about than _Goshiki's_ feelings. Why is he even still here? He ought to have stopped this farce long ago. Except he hadn't known. Hadn't known until this moment, until a few moments ago when Goshiki had approached him unusually quiet and shy. Normally he'd bound over to Kenjirou greeting him enthusiastically, but today- 

"You don't mean that." Kenjirou replies. There is homework mounting up in his room, a demon coach coming in half an hour along with Kawanishi and the others and setting up to do and exams to revise for and- "You can't mean that." 

And Kenjirou is panicking. He doesn't need this. Goshiki looks crestfallen for a moment. He doesn't need that either. 

"Yes I do!" 

He didn't want to hear that. He wanted to hear that it was a joke, nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. A joke like the ones Kawanishi plays on him sometimes, a joke like... Like... 

Goshiki never jokes. He's one of those earnest people who just doesn't really get it. His eyes are set on Kenjirou, his stance is firm. 

"No, it's not... It's a phase. It's not real." Kenjirou says, but even his voice wavers. Things start collecting in his brain, knowledge starts pooling together and dripping and dripping towards some kind of conclusion. He wishes he could stop it. But they are alone. They always are. 

When he became captain, when the third years resigned and he never really saw them anymore (except Ushijima could not be banned from the gym if they'd tried. They did not try), he'd had a Plan. Get to the gym early. Look keen. Use the time to revise, since now Ushijima wasn't there, people probably would just turn up on time. Maybe a little early, but nothing ridiculous. He was the one with the keys anyway, so it made sense, and it would work, it was foolproof, he'd have half an hour or so of peace and quiet to revise. 

But Goshiki happened. Every morning, Goshiki turned up early. He'd be waiting there when Kenjirou opened up the gym, eagerly awaiting practice. Every day, day after day, Goshiki would be there before him. Only once, when Kenjirou had gotten there ridiculously early, just to see. Goshiki had turned up, breathless, a few minutes later, and laughed about how Kenjirou had finally beat him. 

Kenjirou hadn't tried again. 

Sometimes Kenjirou would do homework while Goshiki practiced serving, surprisingly quiet and focused. Something about that loss in first year had made a furious determination flow through him, culminating in bouts of quiet concentration, nothing breaking the moment except the rhythmic _thwack-whoosh-bam_ of each ball being served. Kenjirou would watch out the corner of his eye sometimes, always reserving any notes he made about Goshiki's form for later. Goshiki couldn't be allowed to know he watched at all, and he didn't seem to have caught on. But when English just wasn't coming to mind, when quotes from the classics fled his mind, when chemical formulae went awry, Goshiki was what he watched as a mental break, as thinking time. 

Other times, when Kenjirou felt like he could spare more time to volleyball, he'd set and Goshiki would spike. And he'd make comments, try different things. Losing Ushijima - even with Goshiki being surprisingly good - and the loss to Karasuno had sharpened their minds. Maybe it wasn't bad to understand the tricks the other teams played; maybe it wasn't a bad idea to try some of them out. Coach Washijo would never have them do anything quite so reckless as some of Karasuno's moves, but he had started to admit there might be different ways to fight. 

Kenjirou couldn't quite stand out as little as he used to. Goshiki wasn't quite as good, nor quite as powerful as Ushijima, so they needed tactics until he gained more strength, and grew into his own body. 

But all those times, it was just them. Only the two of them in that big gym. Very occasionally Goshiki would remember he couldn't fail and would sit there and study with him - or rather, try something, get it wrong, and ask him questions. On those days, Kenjirou never got anything done, but he never felt quite as bad about it as he should have done. Mostly because he enjoyed lording his knowledge over Goshiki. It was fun. 

It's just the two of them now. There's no escape from this. Kenjirou's mind is scrambled. e = mc^2, uranium decays to lead, Goshiki likes him. Two of those, he understands. 

Goshiki looks upset now.  
"Shirabu-san! It's not a phase, it's not- not fake! I really do lo-"  
"Stop!" Kenjirou interrupts, throwing his hands up. Goshiki's mouth snaps shut. His eyes are wide. He looks distraught, now. 

Kenjirou's mind twists and turns at a hundred miles an hour. How does he get out of this, give himself thinking space? He's going to say awful things if this continues. He wants to tell Goshiki to go away, but he'll take it personally, and that could impact on the team. How does he contain this? How? How how how? 

_I need time_ , is what he tries to say. What comes out is "Prove it." 

Kenjirou just doesn't _get_ it. Why him? They don't get on that well - or at least they didn't, did they? Now it's kind of amicable, now Goshiki has settled into his skin more, stopped having to prove himself at every turn to Ushijima, although he always reverts when Ushijima returns to the gym. Now he's gotten more of a measure on him, now that for a few months now they've had their half an hour alone in the gym. Every day. Every morning. 

Goshiki blinks, stunned, then frowns at him in utter confusion. 

"How do I..." He starts, before an idea seems to hit him. "What if we-" 

"Whatever you just thought, no." Kenjirou replies, cutting it off before it can take shape. His hands shake where he holds them, one clutching his bag, both in fists, and he turns. "I'll think about it." He murmurs in lieu of any kind of answer, and makes his way to the collection of benches. Come to think, it's really not an optimal study spot, why does he keep doing this? 

Goshiki stays silent as he gets a cart of balls and sets up the net, and starts in serving. The sound of the ball smashing into the floor starts up, then changes slightly. Kenjirou doesn't have to even look up. 

"As Tendou would say, you're hitting home runs." He mutters. The gym falls silent for a long moment after the ball drops to a standstill. 

"Sorry, Shirabu-san." 

The thwacks after that are back to normal, if more muted.

* * *

Kenjirou isn't expecting Goshiki to turn up the next morning. He'd trudged in because his house is never quiet in the mornings, what with two dogs demanding food and walks, and his older brother vying for the bathroom about now so he's not late for the train and the triplets chattering incessantly and tormenting the cats. His house as a general rule is never quiet. Kenjirou wishes it would be more peaceful, but he'll just go into school earlier to make up for it. 

Goshiki isn't there when he gets there. He doesn't arrive when he opens the gym door and puts all his stuff down, gets changed into practice gear. When he flicks open his Japanese literature book to the right page. When he finishes the first page, flicks onto the second. Neither is he there for the start of the third, fourth. 

On the sixth the door slams open, and Goshiki is there sucking in breaths and red in the face. Kenjirou just contains a smirk. 

"I woke up late!" He screeches, and bows jaggedly. "Sorry Shirabu-san, I'll do better next time!" 

It's typical Goshiki. Kenjirou has to smother a laugh, his hair all over the place and hands still on his knees, catching his breath. Goshiki looks up at the snort that doesn't manage to be hidden, and Kenjirou looks away, hiding his mouth with his hand so he can smile without comment. 

"I didn't think you ever did that, Goshiki." He replies, spinning his pencil around his finger. Goshiki blinks, then grins. 

"You're the one who never sleeps in!" 

Goshiki is... blinding, in many ways, Kenjirou realises. He is totally earnest, and thinks too much and too little of himself all at once, in fits and starts. He'll give everything to volleyball and forget there is anything outside it. In many ways he's so simple he can't ever hide anything, which is somewhat comforting, knowing there likely is no ulterior motive, unlike most people at Shiratorizawa. Everyone else is trying to get ahead by subterfuge; Goshiki gets ahead by simply running forwards. 

Something about the fact it's only the two of them, and a sense of easiness that has settled in his bones, makes him reply when he'd normally leave it. 

"I can't say it never happens." He remarks, and doesn't regret it even when Goshiki's eyes light up. He wanders closer, flops down on a bench near Kenjirou. 

"Yeah?" 

Goshiki eventually manages to wheedle out of him the tale of the time he was three hours late for school in first year, because his siblings had been causing a ruckus and he'd not gotten to sleep before about 4am. He seems very pleased with himself for this, and Kenjirou forgets what happened yesterday morning, wrapped up in the moment. When he does remember, it is... 

Well, if it was a bad thing to have happened, if he really wished it hadn't happened, why does he feel disappointed that everything's back to normal? 

It's only when Kawanishi stumbles in yawning later on that Kenjirou realises: his textbook is still out, and nothing is set up. He hasn't done any work, Goshiki hasn't done any volleyball. 

Things aren't normal - but if they aren't normal, what are they? 

And why does he want to know?

* * *

Kenjirou overhears a conversation later that day in the cafeteria, escaping from his idiotic classmates by sitting elsewhere in the cafeteria, putting him in close proximity to some second years. 

"Dude, Goshiki was askin' some weird questions before." One drawls as he sits down. Kenjirou tunes in purely because now the mere mention of Goshiki makes him pay attention. It's like a fish hook, reeling him in, unable to listen to anything else. 

"Yeah?" The other replies, only half interested, before he separates his chopsticks and shoves a glob full of rice into his mouth. "Like wha'?" He mumbles around the food. Kenjirou wrinkles his nose. 

"Like, I'unno. How you prove to someone you like them." 

Kenjirou stills, carrot falling from his chopsticks unnoticed. 

"Huh. So weird. Guessing he likes someone then."  
"Didn't say who."  
"Probably Yamada. He's always talking with her."  
"Yeah. Or one of his volleyball teammates, I don't think he has a life outside that to be honest." The two of them snicker, somewhat mean. Kenjirou swallows thickly against the briefly engulfing rage that makes him want to defend the team, defend Goshiki. 

Promptly deciding they'll discuss nothing further of use, as they then spot one of their friends approaching, Kenjirou sticks his earbuds in and listens to a revision CD he'd recorded to his mp3. Turning the volume up a little too high, he resolves not to think about Goshiki again until afternoon practice. 

It doesn't work. He sees Goshiki sprinting up the stairs two at a time between lessons, and when he spots Kenjirou, he ducks his head for a second, embarrassed, then smiles and says he'll see him later. 

That is enough for Goshiki to metaphorically follow him all day. He is leaning over Kenjirou's shoulder asking about a certain kanji, asking about a maths question. He's smiling at him when Kenjirou realises he's stuck his tongue out trying to work out the answer on a pop quiz. Kenjirou is thinking about how he'd explain some concept to Goshiki. He's thinking he needs to take good clear notes so he can borrow them later - supervised of course, Kenjirou doesn't trust anyone with his notes. Especially not Goshiki, he doesn't think he'd ever get them back unless he went around to his house - and why isn't that thought bothering him? 

The thing is that it is bothering him. Goshiki is acting completely normally with him, but has asked someone else. What advice did they give? Is he going to follow it, if they gave any at all? Why did he ask Goshiki to prove it? He doesn't think Goshiki would lie to him, but Kenjirou is worried that he's lying to himself - that it's not actually real, or it's not really affection of any romantic kind. 

Does it matter? 

He watches Goshiki talking to (or rather, being talked at by) Washijo later, sees all the other players around him, and thinks _yes_ to himself. 

He can't afford to jeopardise the team for something transient. He won't let Goshiki jeopardise the team for something transient.

* * *

He doesn't tend to go to his shoe locker until after morning practice. It's out of his way, and he really doesn't need to. He might start going there first now. 

Goshiki is, as usual, at the gym before him; his lips are tightly pressed together to stop himself from making a real expression as he looks eagerly at Kenjirou. He ends up looking constipated. 

"What?" Kenjirou mutters unenthusiastically, woken up an hour early by a cat being chased by Mizuha, the youngest of the triplets. Both had been in a state: the cat for obvious reasons, the sibling for having had a nightmare, and requiring attention because of it. He'd ended up with a cat on his lap and a sister snoozing on his arm, unable to sleep nor shift either of them until much later. As such, he's later than usual today, and with less sleep. 

"Nothing!" Goshiki shouts, sounding pleased with himself. "Nothing." He repeats, smoothing his voice down to a less high pitch. Kenjirou shoots him a perplexed look, but decides it's probably nothing important. 

He wishes he had questioned him, in retrospect. 

Because later, once they've tidied up and showered and changed, Kenjirou heads to his shoe locker and is met by a veritable cascade of red when he opens it. 

He thinks, for a moment, that he's stepped into a horror movie, before re-evaluating - wrong shade of red and not liquid. Individual red items. Rose petals. 

_Oh dear lord._

They are now _everywhere_ , all over his outdoor shoes, the floor around him, caught on his trousers. Everyone around is looking and has started whispering. 

He doesn't even like roses. 

More importantly, how did Goshiki get them _in_ there? There's an impressive number, he thinks, as he looks dumbly around at the floor, stunned. He must look really stupid, but he just can't move. Can't even think. He just stares at the petals, until someone steps on one and he gets irrationally irritated. 

Then he wonders why, as he retrieves his shoes to collect a dustpan and brush. There's no way he can keep them all, and he doesn't even like roses. They smell too perfumery and they have too many romantic connotations. They're hard to grow, too. His mother is constantly trying, and failing. And getting annoyed when his dad seems to be able to plant just about anything and have it grow. 

Besides, it's not like they actually symbolise Goshiki's feelings, so treading on them shouldn't be anything, but it feels sacrilegious anyway; he carefully avoids stepping on them as he sweeps them up. He is then forced to put them into the bin for lack of anywhere else to put them, else he'll be late. Still, he manages to find time to stash a few in one of his heavy textbooks, with an absent mind to preserve the memory. 

But why? The question lurks around him for the rest of the day. Putting a ton of flowers in his locker doesn't really prove anything, other than maybe determination (or, if he's being cynical, dedication to a cruel joke). So they're roses. So they were red. Goshiki ought to know Kenjirou better than that; he's not into flashy himself, merely watching it from afar. He'd prefer to support the impressive feats from the sidelines; like with Ushijima, like with Goshiki himself. He doesn't need to be in the spotlight. 

Although, the idea that he'd go to that much trouble for Kenjirou, makes him feel a little... light-headed is the only word to describe it, but it's not quite right. He keeps catching himself smiling faintly when he thinks about it instead of focusing on the lesson. 

Nonetheless, he quells the whole thing by thinking it won't last. A few more times maybe, then Goshiki will give up. It'll all be back to normal. Which would be good, of course. This has thrown him off when he really can't afford it. 

He's still going to tell Goshiki he doesn't like roses though. He feels like he ought to do that much.

* * *

Dropping back while they're doing their warm up run, he waits until Goshiki laps him again, and then prods him sharply. Luckily Coach Washijo is hassling a slow first year, and doesn't notice. Goshiki glances at him, and seems to realise what it might be about, his cheeks going red, eyes darting around. So he _does_ feel embarrassment sometimes, Kenjirou thinks to himself. 

"You could at least use flowers I liked, idiot." Kenjirou proclaims, not actually looking at Goshiki. He should really discourage it completely. He really should. But part of him, a very small part, was kind of charmed. 

He thinks he'd be more charmed if he actually liked the flowers. 

A locker full of rose petals, or any kind of petal, is inconvenient though.  
"And it's too flashy." He adds, glancing around. They run past a first year tying his shoelaces, but no one else is close enough to hear. 

"It wasn't flashy, it was romantic! You _asked_ me to prove it." He objects, a highlight of red still on his cheeks unconnected from the exercise. Then Goshiki appears to chew his lip for a moment. "What flowers do you like, then?" He asks quietly. 

As if it's going to carry on. 

"No more flower petals, Goshiki, you'll make me late cleaning them up." He reprimands, and then, because he really is curious, "How did you even get them in there?" 

Goshiki flashes a confident smile at him.  
"Secret!" He says, smug. "Does that mean no more flowers, or just the petals?" 

"Well obviously the petals are even more annoying, but you shouldn-" 

"Kenjirou! Tsutomu! Stop yappin' and start lappin'!" Washijo yells across the court, startling them both back into action. 

Something about Goshiki's broad grin as he speeds up again, tells him the message didn't quite come across in his aborted sentence, that he shouldn't bring him anything. Damn Washijo. If that interruption meant tons of flowers tomorrow, he was getting the blame. Kenjirou would find a way to 'accidentally' mis-hit the ball in his direction.

* * *

With trepidation, he stands outside his shoe locker. He'd maybe slightly lied and told Washijo he needed to talk to a teacher so he could leave early and have fewer witnesses to this possible spectacle. 

He's not actually sure he wants to open it. He doesn't want another cascade. Even though he thinks Goshiki got the point and understood it, he wouldn't put it past him to either ignore it, or not actually have taken it in. 

Still, he needs his shoes at some point, and now is as good a time as any, the lockers almost deserted. 

He takes a breath, inserts the key and turns it, holding it shut. He opens it a tiny fraction, peers in. 

Nothing falls out.  
Surprised, he opens it totally, squashing the feeling of definitely-not-disappointment. 

Then he smiles, because he knew something had to be here. Goshiki had had that face again, and Kenjirou hadn't dared interrogate him for fear, so he'd waited with anticipation for this, which actually- 

Ended up being a small cluster of flowers on his shoes, instead. 

They're carnations, not his favourite, but perfectly nice, and much better than a flood of roses. He reaches in and feels the petals, that smooth silken touch of flowers, picks one up and twirls it in his fingers, admiring it. And thinks that perhaps he ought to invest in a flower press. 

_no_ , a cold reality screeches. _don't let him get to you, only a phase, not real not real just fake_

His smile drops faster than his fingers drop the flower. It's true, he needs to not get too involved. He doesn't have time in between captaincy and studying, and he'll be leaving in less than a year: half a year, now. Even if Goshiki is deadly serious, the only thing that endures for him is volleyball. He goes through phases in music, in fashion; he's always changing. Kenjirou can't let himself get his hopes up, because they might just be crushed in a few months, and if he invests in something, he invests heavily. Goshiki will move on faster than he will. 

It's like ice water, the idea of him being at university and heart-broken, having let himself fall for something so transient. He doesn't have time for that. He doesn't have time for this. 

But even so, the flowers don't find themselves in the rubbish. He can't quite bring himself to. They stay by his shoes in his locker for the day, poke out of his bag on the way back home, and end up in a vase on his windowsill that night. 

He doesn't say anything to Goshiki about it. It'll stop soon, anyway.

* * *

It keeps happening. Goshiki must have taken the fact that he didn't say anything as that he didn't like those particular flowers, rather than the flowers in general. He gets a very wide variety, from purple daisies to irises, camellias to hydrangeas. He ends up getting a flower press and diligently presses one of each type. He tells himself it's so he can tell Goshiki when he runs out of ideas and recycles them. They all end up in the vase on his window, and only thrown out when they wilt. 

And he's really trying his best not to let it affect him. Goshiki still turns up half an hour early every day, with that hopeful smile that he'll hit on the flower Shirabu likes most, maybe, and Kenjirou tries not to smile when he opens his locker. 

He fails every time. 

He really ought to end this. He really, really should, but Goshiki's face whenever he thinks about starting that conversation... There's always an excuse. They had a practice match. They had preliminaries. Goshiki had tests. They had summer coming up. It's a Friday. He doesn't want to ruin Goshiki's weekend as well as his own. 

Goshiki has started texting him, random little things. Kenjirou can't help but reply, unable to be that cold. Maybe they can survive this as friends. He'll text him a picture of the sky, a dog he met on the street. A cute cat that rolled over for him to fuss it, a car he wants when he's a professional volleyball player. A weird flavour of drink in the mart, and he'll always buy it and try it then tell Kenjirou it was awful over the phone, or occasionally how surprisingly good it was. The ones he likes he sometimes brings in and waves at him to take in their half an hour and Kenjirou will hold onto it until lunch and drink it then and think of Goshiki when he does. 

He starts buying Goshiki weird sweets he sees, and since he lives closer to a bigger mart than Goshiki, he somehow tends to happens upon the ones Goshiki hasn't tried yet. It ends up being part of the ritual, a weird sweet at the end of their half an hour for the sugar before the others come in. He discovers some new ones he lays in for revision snacks; discovers disgusting ones that belong in the bin. He discovers the face Goshiki makes when something is really sour, and the disappointed face he makes if it leaves a bitter aftertaste, trying not to make faces at Coach Washijo. 

The awful ones he hands around to the first years, slow to learn when they're getting the rejects and when he's being nice. 

It's only when, on a hot morning, Yunohama arrives to find them eating pumpkin ice cream on the step outside the gym, that he realises it's gone a little too far. Kenjirou had seen it in a new shop he'd seen, thought Goshiki might like it, and had carefully frozen some ice packs to keep it cool to give to him the next morning. The flowers haven't stopped, Kenjirou still hasn't worked out how he's doing it (and if he was being really honest, he rather likes the mystery of it) and it just. 

It's been a few months. 

And here he is, Goshiki enthusing about the new band he likes and a tactic he thinks he's come up with (it's been in the playbook for years), having insisted that warm ice cream wasn't any good and it wouldn't last until lunch so they should eat it now. And he hadn't resisted. He'd gone along with it happily even, pleased to have a break from physics, to feel the wind on his face and- 

And to carve out some non-volleyball time with Goshiki. 

It's not really a date, but it's close. Kenjirou could have started not coming so early to the gym, could have left Goshiki hanging if he really didn't want to encourage this. There were ways to discourage feelings without being too impolite, and he just wasn't doing them. It had never occurred to him. 

_It had never occurred to him._

Did he _want_ Goshiki to prove it? 

Yunohama comments while they are stretching later that he's been smiling more since he got more friendly with Goshiki, and the others agree - those in second and third year, anyway. The first years just look a bit bewildered, unaware of how he had been, although they must know that he'd carried his attitude as a captain over into his normal life, before. Didn't they? 

But they don't. The thing with Goshiki had started just after the then third years had retired, and maybe without him even knowing, he'd warmed up in that short amount of time. 

He actually does want Goshiki to prove it to him. Worse, he thinks he asked that not for any thought about the team, but for himself. He'd wanted to know. Wanted to believe it. Because even then, he- he already... 

It's a little too much to process while stretching; he ends up in one pose too long, getting cramp and falling over, and staying on the ground for a few seconds longer than he needs. 

When he opens his eyes, Goshiki is looking at him all concerned, hair sweeping down around his face, longer than in first year, more tousled from practice, and Kenjirou kind of really wants to- 

He looks away, but he still takes that warm, calloused hand helping him up. 

He wants to hold onto that a bit longer than necessary too. 

And thinks that he is definitely in trouble.

* * *

He finds himself at Goshiki's house. 

It's just to get some notes back, because they'd been studying in their half an hour and then Hayama had crashed in raving about a new match on TV and somewhere, things got a little confused. Goshiki had said he'd return them, but it's a few days later and Kenjirou needs to review them. So he'd gotten the address and decided to come over on his singular free day. 

It's just to get notes. Quick, in, grab the notes, out, maybe some polite small talk but he's got work to do and dinner to help make later. 

The message isn't getting through to his heart, pulsing faster than it would have if he'd visited any of his other teammates. He's also more concerned about his clothes than he would normally be. Too casual? Too formal? He's only going to get notes, it shouldn't even matter! 

It's only going to be quick. He rings the doorbell. He gives himself ten minutes in total. 

An older Goshiki with shorter hair opens the door, ridiculously tall, and raises an eyebrow. 

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Shirabu Kenjirou, one of Goshiki's teammates..." He starts, but as soon as he gets to his name, older Goshiki splits into a grin. 

"Ah, you! We've heard a lot, wait a second, Shirabu. Tsutomu! Your friend's here!" He yells up the hall, and seconds later, footsteps thunder down the stairs. While this happens, he introduces himself as Goshiki's father, Daisuke. By the time he's done that, Goshiki appears at the end of the hall, sliding sideways with the speed he takes the corner. 

"Shirabu-san!" He cries, sounding- pleased. He's smiling, anyway. 

_Only here for the notes_ , he sends another memo to his heart. It takes no heed, fascinated in seeing Goshiki in casual clothes, something he very rarely sees: some kind of fashion label t-shirt and ripped jeans. He looks good. Kenjirou wishes he hadn't noticed. 

"I was trying to find those notes, haven't got to them yet!" Goshiki says, a little louder than necessary. From further in the house, he hears a female-sounding voice, reprimanding him to use his inside voice. He looks a little abashed. His father smiles warmly. 

"I'll leave you two to it, then. Have a good study session." He remarks.  
"Oh, that's not, I'm just here for the notes-" Kenjirou objects, but Goshiki seems to take to the idea.  
"Good plan, dad! Wanna come in then?" He asks, with such a light in his eyes Kenjirou can't find the words to refuse. He already has his study stuff with him, prepared to grab these and go to a cafe, since the library isn't open today; he'd all been ready for sitting there for hours and ordering the minimal amount of drinks to be allowed to stay. 

At some point in the last few months, he's become weak.  
"If you can stay quiet for more than ten minutes, and find those notes, I can stay for a bit, I suppose." Goshiki nods emphatically, and Kenjirou takes off his shoes, sets them neatly by a pair of trainers that are probably Goshiki's, puts a pair of guest slippers on and wonders if any of Goshiki's other teammates have come around here. 

Goshiki's mother tells them she'll be up with drinks in a while as they pass some kind of office; Goshiki bounds up the stairs, and Kenjirou follows, trepidation settling over him, not sure this is a good idea at all. 

"Oh, um, excuse the mess, I was looking for your notes..." He says when Kenjirou walks in, and is expecting the room to look like a pig sty. Instead, the only thing that litters the floor, the bed, the low table, are papers. 

There's a lot of stuff in Goshiki's room, but it's more orderly than he'd have expected. Lots of CDs are stacked in one corner with an expensive looking player, some kind of wardrobe takes up an entire side of the room. The only untidy thing aside from the papers is that the bed is unmade, but Kenjirou isn't really going to dwell on that one. He's got posters up for various bands, some of which Kenjirou had never heard of. 

Clearing a space of papers, he sits, and watches Goshiki rake a hand through his hair.  
"I could'a sworn they were..." He mutters, to himself; Kenjirou rests an elbow on the table and props his head on his hand.  
"Have you checked your bag?"  
"Yes!" Goshiki insists, then actually thinks about it. "Or maybe I forgot..." 

Within a minute, he has his notes back. He could leave. He has what he came for. He should leave. But Goshiki takes the adjacent side of the table and pushes an English textbook at him, smiling sheepishly and pointing at a problem with the past tense. The altruistic side of him says that it's good to teach, making the lessons stick better. The smug side of him likes knowing more than Goshiki, it's like he has this one point of control. 

But he could probably also regret that, when Goshiki shuffles closer, scowling at the textbook, their shoulders just brushing, and he recalls their predicament. 

So, it seems, does Goshiki. He jolts away a bit, his face gaining a hint of red. They both focus for a while, at least until his mother - Orihime, she introduces herself as - brings tea and mochi in. Goshiki frowns. 

"Mom! We have other drinks in the fridge! And other snacks too!" He complains. 

"I'm alright with anything," Kenjirou adds, more to be polite than anything; Goshiki whips his head around to face him, snorting.  
"Yeah right! You're, like, the pickiest eater!" Which isn't exactly untrue, but he's happy with tea and mochi. He likes a lot of the traditional food, so it's actually perfect. 

Goshiki has made him lose his mind. That's the only explanation for why, instead of thinking about and formulating a real answer, he just sticks his tongue out at him. 

Goshiki's jaw drops, and he just stares at Kenjirou. His mum laughs quietly, setting the tray down. 

"Glad to see you're getting on well. Mu-chan, if you want different things you're perfectly capable of getting them yourself, just don't ruin your dinner. Now, if you'd please excuse me, I'll leave you to it." She remarks, just the right level of fond exasperation. Kenjirou thinks he could get on with her. And also, once she has left: 

"'Mu-chan'?" He echoes teasingly. It makes Goshiki shut his mouth at least, going red and waving his arms about. 

"Ugh, she always calls me that!" He exclaims, and then notices the smirk on Kenjirou's face. "Don't you dare call me that at practice!" 

"Wouldn't dream of it." He murmurs, pouring some tea for the both of them. Goshiki then laughs when he can't get into the mochi, that stupid plasticky paper that's hard to rip. He takes it off him, and makes a show of ripping it open with his teeth, except that doesn't work either and Kenjirou actually can't hide his laughter. 

Ten minutes later, they both give up and resort to scissors. Goshiki shoves the whole thing in his mouth at once, so he can get back to solving a maths problem he's been struggling over for twenty minutes at least. He gets icing sugar smudged all over his face in the process; Kenjirou can't help but smile at the sight, him chewing ferociously while frowning, scratching his head and tapping his pencil on the page. After a minute or so, he gives up staying out of it, and points at the error in his calculation. Goshiki stares at it, makes a frustrated noise, and does eventually solve it, and moves onto the next one, which ends up being a similar story. Kenjirou gives it five questions before he points out the icing sugar, which Goshiki complements perfectly by going bright red. Kenjirou can only smile. 

Between helping Goshiki, he writes a mock essay on one of the classics, how this character shows this trait and what that means, utterly boring but not too difficult. He prefers just reading for fun, not analysing it, but he can do it. He'd just rather not. He's putting off physics, and saving biology, which he kind of likes. Plus there's statistics, and English and- well, he just has to get on with it. It's a little slower with helping Goshiki, but not too bad. Goshiki isn't that stupid, but he's not that smart either. He's not a sport scholarship student without reason. 

So they settle into a rhythm, which lasts for a good hour or so. Kenjirou finishes his essay and starts on the physics, to get it out of the way; Goshiki finally finishes his and begins a biology worksheet Kenjirou faintly recalls from last year. He doesn't need as much help with that one, thankfully, and they slide into a comfortable silence, only the occasional question or tapping of fingers, or pause to sip at the tea, growing cold. Kenjirou takes small bites of his mochi, chewing it thoughtfully as he works his way through calculations and explanations about stars. 

Gradually, he becomes aware of eyes on him, the noise of Goshiki studying having faded at some point. He feels his neck start to burn with the scrutiny, and risks a glance up. Goshiki is, indeed, watching him, not smiling just- observing, really. Kenjirou raises an eyebrow. 

"Shouldn't you be studying?" Goshiki hums in assent, but doesn't move to do anything useful. They've been there a while, so he understands the distraction, but it's less _Goshiki_ getting distracted than Goshiki distracting _him_. He's gotten a surprising amount done even with helping Goshiki, but he wants to finish this worksheet before he goes. "Well you do whatever, I need to finish this." He says, perhaps a touch louder than needs be, and stares down at the page, blocking the sight of Goshiki out by will alone. This works for a good minute or so, until he speaks. 

"Shirabu... san?" Goshiki starts a little hesitantly. He keeps writing, in the middle of an equation, nearly at the end and trying to keep his focus. He nods absently. "Could... um. Could you maybe, er... hugmemaybe?" He babbles, mostly incomprehensible. 

"What was that?" He murmurs, not looking up. The equation has already started ebbing from his head though. 

"Uh..." He glances up. Goshiki is wringing his hands, biting his lip, and trying somewhat unsuccessfully to look at Kenjirou. "Could I maybe hug you?" 

Kenjirou is pretty sure that wasn't the original question, but he's fine with letting that lie. Hugs aren't really that much, are they? They're usually just brief, although admittedly that's with his family, rather than anyone outside of it.  
"Sure, whatever." He returns, imagining something short, or where he'll still be able to work, like when the triplets hang off him to see if he's up to playing. 

Out the corner of his eye, he sees Goshiki light up with glee, and thinks maybe this won't be a short thing, or even a minimal contact thing. It's Goshiki. How could he forget that? 

Goshiki very literally launches himself at Kenjirou, his pencil going flying, and he has about half a second to hope the lead doesn't break (dammit Goshiki!) before he himself tilts over and hits the floor, arms around him holding on tightly, Goshiki's head tucked into the crook of his neck, and it becomes obvious that he ought to have thought about this a little more. Goshiki is almost entirely on top of him, and he can't really say it's comfortable. 

"T-that's not really a hug, you idiot..." He wheezes. "More of a tackle..." 

Goshiki's only response is to cling on tighter, bordering on painful. Kenjirou just thinks to himself that if Goshiki doesn't want him to escape, he won't. Much to his chagrin, Goshiki remained taller than him - increased the difference, actually - and has more mass than he does. He is kind of trapped. 

What surprises him is that he doesn't necessarily _want_ to free himself. He just wants Goshiki to shift just a little bit so that it's more comfortable for him. 

To no avail. Shuffling would just be plain awkward. It can't be that comfortable for Goshiki either, arms pressed against tatami mats, but at least he's not being squashed. 

"This is pretty uncomfortable Gos-"

"Have I proved it to you yet?" Goshiki interrupts, and Kenjirou can't even be too annoyed at that, because he's stunned. He's been avidly _not_ thinking about it since he realised he might actually want Goshiki to prove it like he'd asked, and the implications of that for himself. He's been trying to implement damage control - being slower on replying to texts, turning away, not being quite so focused on him, but it's not been working at all. All his life so far, he's avoided this, avoided being part of the rat race of crushes and dating his classmates seemed so fond of. He just didn't have time, had to improve at volleyball, had to study, had to get out and be something and do something worthy and love had never been in that plan. None of it had, he'd dismissed several girls out of hand who wanted to date him (like any of it had been going to last), but Goshiki, with his bright eyes and simple mind, his fervent need to improve, his inability to give up, has dug a hole in his heart and started residing there. He's in his thoughts, his dreams, following him at any given moment with a _Goshiki would like-_ and _I want to show him-_ before Kenjirou has had to cut himself off in this stupidity. It can't possibly last much longer, Goshiki will move on with his tastes like he does with bands and Kenjirou- 

Kenjirou will be- 

Alone. Again. 

It shouldn't hurt like it does. It never used to hurt, except he has a sneaking suspicion that it's not the alone part that's getting to him, it's the _without Goshiki_ part and in all honesty?

That terrifies him. 

Middle child in a sizeable family - he's used to being independent, to being stubborn on what he wanted but not caring about too much because he just couldn't. He's used to forging his own path regardless of anyone else. 

This? This is wholly new, and scary. He's seen relationships break so easily, seen it happen to the people around him, and how much it affected them. He doesn't have that kind of time to afford to heartbreak. 

But worse, he really doesn't want to let Goshiki go either. 

So he's stuck in the middle again, wanting and yet wanting to protect himself. 

He wants to say yes, though. It's on the tip of his tongue, forming in his throat, because even though he's scared, he wants to try it, he thinks, maybe maybe- 

Footsteps clatter up the stairs; Goshiki snaps back to a sitting position and he just manages to right himself before Goshiki's mum comes in, and looks between them. 

Kenjirou knows an escape plan when he sees one. 

"I've gotta go." He mutters, and haphazardly sweeps his stuff into his bag while both of them watch. He doesn't have time to wince at crumpled sheets as he stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder and pausing at the door, still watched. He bows just slightly. "Thank you for having me. I'll- see you tomorrow, Goshiki." 

And he flees. 

Goshiki returns his pencil to him the next day, and seems almost normal: he doesn't ask again, though, and he doesn't seem quite so vibrant as usual for a day or so. He mostly returns to normal when Kenjirou brings a chilli chocolate sweet in for him the day after, and Kenjirou can almost forget it.

* * *

"Who's getting you those flowers, Kenjirou?" His mother asks idly, while he's getting himself a drink to take into his room to study with. Jolting, he just barely keeps his glass from spilling, and sends her a look. 

"No-one." He replies defensively. In retrospect, it was stupid to think she wouldn't have noticed, but equally, he does pass a florist on the way home, he could have been buying them _himself_... 

Of course, she knows him better than that. Flowers are not something he'd waste his own money on. Unusual sweets to share with Goshiki however, are a different matter. 

"Well, whoever no-one is, they're rather invested." She comments, continuing with peeling the carrots. She must see his raised eyebrow out the corner of her eye, or just understand in that way mums sometimes do, because she explains. "They're not cheap, you know. And I only know a little about the language of flowers, but all of the ones you've gotten say largely the same thing." 

Kenjirou just stops at that. He'd never even thought about whether there was a meaning behind them, other than the very obvious. 

"And what would that be?" He asks, only a faint quiver in his voice. It must be some kind of coincidence. No way would Goshiki actually have the forethought to-  
"They're trying to tell you they're in love with you, I believe." She murmurs quietly. He appreciates that she's only mentioning this when they are alone - he doesn't think he'd ever live it down from his siblings should this ever be known. But still, it's not really a conversation he _wants_ to have. 

"I don't think they're serious, mum, don't panic." He flaps his hand, and makes to move off.  
"On the contrary, Kenjirou, I think they're very serious." She says, and he has to stop again. "No idle crush would bring you flowers every day for several months." 

He puts his drink down, and really, none of this should be a surprise to him. He's been starting to think it for a while - the other day only helped build the idea - but having someone else say it, someone totally unrelated to the situation, to have someone else make that judgement...  
"I can't focus, mum. It's distracting me," he whispers, scared. He can't afford his grades to drop. He can't afford this to side-track him, but it already has. She sends him a glance, and sees his conflicted face; she puts down the potato she's peeling and turns to face him. 

"Do you like them?" Simple and blunt. He knows where he gets it from, but that doesn't mean he likes it aimed at himself. He can't help but flinch, because he doesn't know. 

(Doesn't know? Or isn't letting himself think about the answer?) 

"That's irrelevant, mum. Preliminaries are going to be coming up soon, and exams-"  
"I think you'll find it's completely relevant, Kenjirou. I know you're busy, but that doesn't mean you can just ignore this. It's not something you can just postpone until you feel like it. Feelings are rarely convenient." She crosses her arms, just to make the displeasure extra clear. He huffs pathetically. 

"I _know_ ," he whines, "But this is a really bad year, and they can't really be-"  
"Kenjirou." He looks up, at that tone of voice, and breaks, as he usually does.  
"Would it change your opinion on things if I told you it wasn't a girl?" He mutters, and bites his lip. She sighs heavily. 

"Kenjirou. I understand that must be jarring, but don't just dismiss it out of hand-"  
"I'm _not_ , I'm just saying-"  
"Because I, frankly, don't care who it is you're with, as long as you are happy and healthy." 

He stares at her; she just stares back. Until he can't stand it anymore, and frowns at the floor.  
"It's not that simple. It'll throw off the team." 

Mulling on that information, she is quiet for a moment, just long enough that he thinks she's dropped it. She hadn't, though.  
"I wouldn't let that bother you too much. Whatever you reply, do it for the right reasons, so you won't regret it later." Hesitating for a moment, he again thinks she's finished, so he picks up his glass of juice. "Do you like him?" 

Kenjirou huffs a quiet laugh, all he can do when trying to calm the swirling thoughts in his head; he doesn't think he's had much of a clear head since Goshiki confessed.  
"I don't know, mum. I really don't know." 

He's thankful that she leaves it at that, and flees to his room to attempt to lose himself in geography. At dinner, she piles a bigger portion on his plate than usual, and sends him a smile, which he takes as encouragement. 

If only he knew what to do with it.

* * *

Goshiki approaches him after practice the next day. They'd had their half an hour alone, so either it's something that's occurred to him during the day, or he wants the others to hear.  
"Senpai!"  
'Approaches' is always a loose term when it comes to Goshiki. More like, he bounds over all noisy. The rest of the third years turn, and most of the second years, unsure who it's been aimed at. Goshiki looks at Kenjirou, but he addresses the group. 

"Wanna go Karaoke?" He enquires enthusiastically. The adults have stepped out, so no one needs to know it's not really supposed to happen. They've been out for food before, or at least, small groups of them. Kenjirou's never included himself, always needing to work. 

Kawanishi hums, interested.  
"I'm up for it." He glances across at Kenjirou. "You wanna come?" 

Kenjirou practically sees Goshiki hold his breath, biting his lip to stop himself interjecting. Internally, he sighs. Externally, he shrugs.  
"For a short while, I suppose I could." It's team building. Probably. 

Goshiki breaks into a huge grin. 

"But I won't be singing." He adds, remembering exactly why he'd never really joined any such trips before. His singing voice isn't _bad_ per say, but it's not great. He knows that, all his family know that too. Also, he has lots of work to do. He really can't be there long. He doesn't even know why he's agreeing at all now he really thinks about it... 

Oh yeah. He's weak. 

Goshiki starts pouting.  
"But why? It's fun, I don't care if you can't sing!" 

Kenjirou has some pride. So, despite Kawanishi's smirk, he has to retort.  
"I can sing! I just don't like to."  
"Awwww, but singing is fun! We can do a duet if you're embarrassed, Shirabu-san?" 

As if doing a duet with _Goshiki_ would make it all better. Kenjirou thinks that might just make it worse. All the duets are love songs... 

"Actually, I remembered this essay I have to do, I should get going..." He starts, mumbling. Goshiki begins to deflate; Kawanishi laughs.  
"Nope. Shirabu, you're coming this time."  
"What? No. Didn't you just hear me?" But Kawanishi is grinning a smug grin, and throwing an arm around his shoulders, just a hint of threatening.  
"I gotta hear you sing now. Duet with Future Ace sounds fun to me." 

Well. If Kawanishi is found dead in an alley later, it wasn't Kenjirou.

* * *

Stubbornly sitting in the corner with his mouth clamped shut, he avoids things by glares until Kawanishi, damn his very soul, threatens to pick his song for him. Knowing him, he'd pick a Hatsune Miku number or something, so Kenjirou is left with little choice, and tries his best to pick something half decent where the backing tune will cover his shaky voice. And he tries not to look at Goshiki the whole time. 

That becomes somewhat difficult when, in the middle of him browsing the tunes with a frown deeply etched on his face, a surprisingly pleasant voice starts singing. He vaguely knows the song; it's got a nice tune and it's pretty recent. It is of course a love song, because aren't they all nowadays? He looks up. 

First mistake. 

Goshiki is singing. His voice is deeper than expected, and melodious. Kenjirou is hit with the thought that he could listen to it for a while. 

Second mistake: he keeps looking. Goshiki notices. He winks at Kenjirou. He keeps looking at Kenjirou, singing lyrics that leave very little to the imagination when it comes to the exact type of emotions the singer has, and paired with the fact Goshiki is looking straight at him 80% of the time while singing it, it's so bloody obvious Kenjirou wants to shoot himself in the foot just for an excuse to escape that didn't look like he'd registered such a painfully obvious signal. He is certain, completely certain, that the majority of the team _knows_. 

But he can't escape without it being even more obvious again, and so he shoves his nose back into the file of songs, avidly flicks among them. As soon as he finds a half decent one he picks it: it's about the sandman, whatever that is, that he knows the lyrics to. It's also loud and more akin to shouting than singing. He suddenly finds himself pleased that his mum, a British ex-patriot, brought a lot of English music with her. Such that he knows this one quite well. When he's not revising and is - albeit rarely - alone at home, these are the songs he'll sing to himself. 

He's just never sang them in front of anyone else before. 

Goshiki finally, finally finishes. The booth breaks out into noise praising him for his voice, which he laps up. No one mentions Kenjirou. He's glad about that, a minor saving grace. He's now nervous about that and singing. Why did he pick a song? Why didn't he just pretend his mum had asked him home? It's too much. Goshiki is too much. It's all too much and he wants to get out. It's starting to overwhelm him, the noise and the thoughts and Goshiki and the thoughts, but he doesn't think he can easily get out right now. He'll just have to wait, and make his escape when he can. 

When it does come to his turn, faster than anticipated, he takes the microphone with a death grip and fixes his eyes on the lyrics reader, like they alone can save him from this situation he's in. Even though he knows the words, he lets tunnel vision take over and he just. Pretends. Pretends he's alone. Pretends it's just him singing to the cats on a nice summer day with the windows closed and the air con on, free and fun and stupid and careless. It's easier. It's so much easier, in fact, he ends up closing his eyes and really going for it, shout-singing far too loud and dancing around. 

It works a little too well. He thinks he did the air guitar solos too, just like his mum does. When he opens his eyes, the final chords fading away, the entire team is staring at him, including Goshiki, who is wearing a very strange expression, somewhere between fascination, awe, and maybe a little afraid. 

The silence feels like it lasts forever, him looking at them and them back at him, and an unsaid chasm between them: it thankfully gets broken by the next song starting up. One of the first years - Hayama - shakily grabs the mic off him. Kenjirou slinks back to his corner as fast as he can and nervously sips his orange juice, wanting the floor to swallow him. Kawanishi leans over. 

"Can't sing, fine. Can shout, though." He says, sounding a little impressed, but mostly smug. Kenjirou sends him a withering look. "How do you even know Metallica?" 

"Mother listens to it." He mumbles, certain now his cheeks are a vivid pink. How could he let himself go like that? Now they'll all think less of him. At the very least they'll never let him live it down.  
Kawanishi, however, whistles lowly.  
"I need to borrow your mum's music. Mine only listen to classical stuff. Including the stuff they play at shrines."  
Kenjirou winces. He likes the music they play at ceremonies and shrines - but only while he's at them. To have it follow him around would be... 

"No wonder you always have headphones on." Phoning Kawanishi is always a matter of being sworn at for a long moment because he had his headphones on and the ringtone is too loud. Sometimes Kenjirou does it just to cheer himself up. Not that he'll ever tell Kawanishi that. Kawanishi nods solemnly.  
"Only way to survive. Or do any work." As far as he recalls, Kawanishi's mums are both involved in temple and shrine work. Why they bring the music home is beyond him, but apparently they do. He can understand the headphones, plus the added amusement of abusing Kawanishi's ears when he gets stressed. He always pretends to have a valid question later. 

Then Kenjirou practically sees him remembering what happened before, his eyes flicking across to Goshiki and then back to him, his mouth opening. Kenjirou kind of wants the floor to open again, because how does he explain? But he is saved: Kawanishi is promptly poked by another first year to goad him into choosing another song, adequately distracting him. They want more third year spectacles now, and if the _captain_ did it, well, maybe they can get a performance off the vice too... 

Unbeknownst to him, Goshiki had been waiting, and takes his opportunity to slide in next to Kenjirou, squashing into a space that isn't really there, meaning he ends up pressed against Kenjirou. Yunohama on his other side complains, but there is nowhere to shift to; they are all trapped in a tiny booth not meant for nearly and over six foot volleyball players. The warmth is almost oppressing, all the way up his leg and his hip and his arm. His breath halts in his chest. Goshiki smiles at him. 

"Duet?" He asks, almost as though he knows Kenjirou can't barely think right now, the confession spinning in his head like a broken record, the song even more so. He won't be able to listen to that anymore without thinking of Goshiki. Was this all a plan to get inside his head, to mess with him? Goshiki wouldn't do that though, would he? It's messing Kenjirou up to a point that he actually doesn't know. He doesn't know what Goshiki wants, and he doesn't know what he himself wants. When did it get all so confused? 

"Whatever, sure, just please move into an actual seat. You're sitting on me. And Yunohama." He snaps, but Goshiki doesn't look hurt at that. If anything, he leans a little closer, a bewildered expression on his face.  
"I'm not sitting on you! I could if you want me to, there's not much room here with all of us..." 

Truly, the uptake on this trip had been astounding. Kenjirou thinks maybe that made his stunt before even worse. And Goshiki's, too. Literally everyone is going to know. All because Kawanishi dragged him here. Again, if he's found dead in an alley, there won't be enough evidence to pin it on Kenjirou. He'll make sure of it. 

"Please don't. Let's just get this over with." Mostly because since he's not ever going to hear the end of it anyway, he might as well do some song with Goshiki. It might keep him off his case for a bit, anyway. It might help keep him distracted from the rising panic and sense of being overwhelmed. 

"It'll be fun though!" He protests loudly. "Don't you wanna sing with me? I'm really good." 

Kenjirou knows that. It might be his undoing.  
"I told you I didn't like singing. I'm only here because Kawanishi made me and _you_ aren't going to give up until I do." 

"But you were really impressive before..." He whines, at which Kenjirou snorts sardonically before he can stop himself. "Well _I_ want to sing with you anyway. What genre?" 

"Metal." He comments snarkily, which sparks a back and forth until they decide on a rock kind of song, in Japanese so Goshiki can sing it. His English isn't so good, despite his complaints that they are; Kenjirou has had the questions to know it. 

He's keeping up barbs the whole time, because Goshiki is still pressed into his side and won't move, and Kenjirou doesn't want to admit he doesn't mind people that close sometimes, not least because the whole situation is getting to him. 

The final straw isn't exactly a big thing, but the final thing is sometimes the weakest. He has this, he looks on top of things until he really, really isn't. He'll have his meltdown and get back on it, but he'd hoped his Goshiki-related meltdown would wait. 

It doesn't. 

"Which song?" Goshiki asks sweetly, almost completely into Kenjirou's ear, too close. He feels like he could scream. Who confessed to who, here? Why does he have to be the one feeling so affected? He can't stay anymore. 

"You choose, I'm going to the bathroom."  
Standing up, Goshiki falls over into the space he leaves behind; Kenjirou sees him do it then glance up as he leaves the room. When he does, he runs. 

He doesn't go far, can't get too far because he didn't pick up his train pass and his phone _why he has to go back now, has to, could have made a graceful exit but no-_. He ends up leaning against a vending machine that hums at him, face in his hands. 

What is wrong with him? 

The vending machine clicks over and resumes humming, a faint rattle behind him. It's grounding in many ways. 

He's being stupid. He was fine before all this, before Goshiki showed up, before Goshiki made himself indispensable and Kenjirou had to deal with him, before he started worming his way into his life and getting under his skin and then confessing like he knows this stuff, Kenjirou doesn't know _he doesn't know_. 

He can't solve love like an equation. He can't translate it. He can't make it into a chemical formulae. Kenjirou has done his best not to rely on instinct, to use only his brain, his gut doesn't matter when logic will win high scores will get him where he needs to go so he's only focused on those, volleyball and Goshiki are just extras. 

But.  
Somewhere along the line volleyball became important to him. But it was the same idea. Build the innate knowledge into his muscles and they will remember what to do. He can't work on pure instinct like Tendou, he has to work it out and calculate. 

Goshiki is almost pure instinct. He steamrolls himself into things just because he feels like it. 

Kenjirou groans morosely into his hands. He starts to make a plan. He'll go back in and collect his stuff. Say he's started feeling ill. He can then escape. He won't have to sing, and he can work and he'll deal with any collateral tomorrow. No doubt someone had filmed him, and that'll be going around school. He hasn't got the energy to demand they don't; hasn't got the energy to deal any further with Goshiki, his left side still burning. He hates it. 

Long fingers encircle his wrists and pull his hands away from his face, surprisingly gentle. Goshiki looks back, concerned. 

"Shirabu-san?" He asks, quiet and un-Goshiki-like. Kenjirou hisses through his teeth, drops his gaze to the floor. 

"What have you done to me." 

He's not asking a question. He gets an answer. 

"I told you the truth. What did you do with that?" 

Freaked out. Why hadn't he seen it? The half an hours, the arriving early. The questions the proximity and it all, all culminated in that truth he still can't- doesn't want to - deal with. 

Goshiki watches him intently as he leans in closer. 

"I love you, Shirabu." 

"You don't know what love is!" He snaps, eyes feeling tight. He immediately spots his mistake when Goshiki drops back. The fight drops out of him too. "Sorry." He whispers. 

His arms get dropped, and he thinks that's the end of it. But then there are fingers in his hair and he has to look up. Goshiki looks pained. 

"Shirabu, please." 

And he doesn't know what Goshiki is going to do. And he doesn't know what he's going to do when Goshiki does whatever it is he's going to do. But his brain only tells him: _stop thinking_. 

He nods. 

Goshiki doesn't start smiling, but he starts running his fingers through Kenjirou's hair. Again, and again. Kenjirou just watches him do it, powerless. Who confessed to who? He feels so lost, here, yet he knows exactly where he is, the rumble of the vending machine behind him and Goshiki in front of him looking like- like he's worth looking at as a person, as more than a setter but that's all he should be to Goshiki- 

"I love you, Shirabu." He says again. There is a shudder up his spine, a creaking screeching feeling that pulls him away from reality. This doesn't exist. They don't exist, the karaoke place doesn't exist. Nothing exists and yet it all does in vivid colour he can't even see. Goshiki's eyes are hypnotising as they ebb closer, ink bleeding into Kenjirou's vision. 

He leans down and kisses Kenjirou, soft as fur, as gentle as though he handles tissue paper. It hurts to focus, it hurts to see; he closes his eyes to find errant tears unwittingly dropping out of his eyes. He's so confused. This is all so confusing. Where is he? Where are they? Do they exist? Have they entered a liminal space, nothing is quite as it seems? He must taste it, Kenjirou tastes it as single tears drip onto his cheeks onto his lips in the moments in between connections, but he carries on regardless. His hands crush into fists against the cool metal of the vending machine, searching for some reality, and he kisses back the best he knows how ( _but he doesn't know he doesn't know_ ). Goshiki shuffles closer, murmurs something Kenjirou doesn't catch; his hand shifts to the back of his neck, smooth as butter and yet calloused, none of that brutal strength in this space between them. 

He doesn't think this exists outside his head. This is him extrapolating. Goshiki is not acting like Goshiki, he's not acting like himself, so this must be fantasy. None of this is real. He started dreaming a few months ago and hasn't woken up since. All he needs to do is to wake up. Everything will return to normal, he'll be at the gym half an hour early with his study books and Goshiki will be waiting there. He'll open it, and they'll exchange some words, but Goshiki won't have confessed and never will. Kenjirou will never have to think about this. They will go their separate ways once Kenjirou has finished, and maybe he'll see Goshiki in some higher level team and maybe he won't. Maybe he'll see Goshiki in the street going about his day and not say hello. Maybe he'll see him in ten years time at a reunion with a wife and maybe even a kid. 

It hurts. It makes him press into Goshiki, makes him crush a grip onto his arms, trapping him there. He fights, refusing to let Goshiki win, or slip away. If this is a dream, he still doesn't know if it's the best or the worst. But he'll make of it what he can. He doesn't want to keep thinking of futures all the time, wants to live here and now, without worry; it lasts only as long as Goshiki is suffocatingly close, though. He pulls away just slightly, eyes dark and his fingers quivering on the back of Kenjirou's neck. Futures come rushing back, but none of the good ones. 

He looks at Kenjirou as though he holds the light of the universe. It terrifies him. 

"I love you, Shirabu." He says again, and Kenjirou can't even half smile. 

"That's what I'm afraid of." He whispers. Goshiki recoils at that. 

"What?" Kenjirou can't stand his tone, he sounds betrayed. He should _know_ this. "What are you afraid of! It's me, it's just me, what could you...?" 

_It's not you loving me that I'm scared of. It's me loving you. Of you stopping. You leaving. You moving on, and I- won't._

"I can't date you-" he starts, but Goshiki stops listening. Jolting back, his face is a mess of emotion, and Kenjirou hates that he's caused it. But if he could just finish- 

"Fine. I get it! I'm not worth it. I thought maybe- but I'll leave you alone!" Goshiki cries, turning on his heel. 

"Would you just lis-"  
"I don't need to!" He snaps as he storms off, lip wobbling.  
"Gosh-" But with his long legs he's gone too fast, and Kenjirou's too off-balance to consider a chase. He'll see him at club, surely. Goshiki wouldn't quit over him, would he? 

There is a spike of fear over the uncertainty of that, but he has to believe Goshiki will return to the club. Volleyball is the only thing that does endure for him, the one thing Kenjirou can rely upon is that Goshiki will not quit over this. 

But it might throw them off. They can't afford that, either. 

He hears some soft footsteps over the sound of his heart, and turns to see Kawanishi, looking somewhere between guilty and shocked. He stops the moment he notices Kenjirou's eyes on him. 

"I was gonna ask if there was something going on with you and Goshiki, but I guess I don't have to, now." He mutters, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. 

Kenjirou feels much the same. Maybe if he could just become one with the vending machine - he knows he's being stupid. But Goshiki didn't listen to him, and he's not actually sure he ever will, now. 

"Guess you don't." He says, glued to the spot. Of course he knew Kawanishi had noticed, it was obvious (although after Goshiki's performance today? Everyone probably knows) but that doesn't mean he doesn't still wish it had been kept secret. He's friends with Kawanishi but that only goes so far, and somehow, him finding out by walking in on them, effectively, doesn't make it any better at all. "Not that there's anything going on now anyway." He spits, irritated. His heart feels like a quivering mess for all the wrong reasons. 

"Why did you say it?" Kawanishi asks, even though it clearly troubles him to do so. He, like Kenjirou, has never had much time for relationships. 

"Wouldn't you like to know." He mutters in response, crossing his arms. Can he get Goshiki to just listen? He's got it all wrong, completely and utterly, totally wrong. Should he get Goshiki to listen? 

But he doesn't want to discuss that with Kawanishi, particularly. 

"I kinda would, actually." Kenjirou glances up at that. Kawanishi is watching him as though daring him to respond. 

"Fuck off." He remarks back, turning away.  
"No, you're being an idiot, Shirabu. Guy's clearly so gone for you it's disgusting. But you're just as gone as he is."  
"Well I fucked that up, didn't I? Go on, laugh."  
"I'm not that heartless." Kawanishi points out. He knows that, but he still deserves it. Sort of. Well, maybe he doesn't, but he could have gotten his point across to Goshiki better, and now his decision is whether to salvage it or not. 

His brain says no. Goshiki will tire of him and his snark and his anxiety at some point, probably sooner than later, then who's going to be left to pick up the pieces because he got over attached? Only himself. Kawanishi isn't going to do it. Nobody else would bother. He hasn't got time for it. 

His heart, however.  
"I'm more interested in what you're going to _do_ about it. You don't do moping." 

"There's nothing to do. He's given up."  
"Oh for- no. Get your head out your ass, Shirabu. He's not going to move on in two minutes."  
"He could. Probably has." His hands crush into fists against each single vein in his body screaming _no_ at the mere prospect. Maybe it's for the best he couldn't finish his sentence, that Goshiki gives up on him. 

Kawanishi levels him a glare that could, when weaponised, probably wipe out a small planet.  
"I think Goshiki genuinely thinks you raise the sun each morning. It's _sickening_."  
"Even he'll give up at some point."  
Kawanishi mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like 'have you ever _met_ Goshiki?' and hisses through his teeth. 

"Stop being an idiot, Shirabu. If you want him, show him. If you don't, don't. I don't care. But don't bring any of that baggage to club." Kenjirou opens his mouth to rebuke that because geez, he's above that, but Kawanishi cuts over him. "I know damn well you want him, though." He snaps as he strides back towards the booth. Kenjirou blinks. He thinks that's probably as close as a blessing he's ever going to get from Kawanishi, and even if it's pointless, it is a little heartwarming. But only a little. 

It's more annoying that it's the truth. But it gives Kenjirou a suitable kick up the ass. 

If he's going to get given up on, he's not going to let it be done over a stupid misunderstanding.

* * *

Goshiki avoids him avidly the next day, which is both utterly unsurprising and disappointing. It gives him an idea, though, along with Kawanishi's words. 

Goshiki is not the only one who can put on a charm offensive. 

So instead of being disheartened by the lack of flowers in his locker that morning, he spends his energy looking online at flowers, and then when he realises the price, at more reasonable options. 

His mum hadn't been kidding. He hates to think what Goshiki has spent on him, but he doesn't have that lying around. Not when he doesn't know if it'll even work, so instead, he comes up with a better idea: origami. 

It had started as a way to entertain the triplets, making little models for them, and teaching them how to do it. There's something in the precise yet artful nature of it that reminds him of setting, and it's relaxing for him to not focus. He doesn't know too many flower patterns though, so he ends up scouring the net and his dad's old books, making flower upon flower. While he does that, he thinks about what to do with them. Goshiki is most certainly still going to be avoiding him, and with the clip of him screeching Metallica spreading through the school like wildfire, he doesn't have much chance to engineer a moment alone. So, he thinks, maybe it's worth it to get up just a little bit earlier still. It could work. It can work. 

He'll make it work. 

Over the course of 24 hours, he's thought about it seriously - finally - and decided that- he wants this. Maybe he won't be able to do it in quite the way he wants to, and he'll probably mess it up, but if he's not learning he's not living. 

He wants to learn more about Goshiki than sharing ice cream on a step will tell him. He wants to know what it feels like to hug him without feeling uncomfortable. He wants to hear Goshiki whisper his first name. 

He wants a lot of things, and they start with this: stashing a bouquet of origami flowers in Goshiki's desk. 

He's pretty sure he'd heard it right - Goshiki had said it enough times, that his desk number matched his jersey number, which matched the ace's number. Class 2-3, desk 4. It's confirmed when he finds Goshiki's textbooks in it, which he moves aside to fit the flowers. 

And now it's him making weird faces at practice, after his half an hour alone of fervently setting up and practicing, unable to sit still and study. It's kind of _fun_ , he realises. He never expected it to be fun. 

In afternoon practice, Goshiki at least says hi to him, which is an improvement over only strictly necessary communication. Kenjirou thinks he spied a faint flush on his cheeks when he first came in, too, so he knows he found them. 

Mission Charm Offensive is a go. 

The flowers get more elaborate with each passing day; he twists sweets into them on Friday, the ones he knows Goshiki liked most that he could never seem to find. He's still being avoided though, which is irritating, since he's going to so much effort. But maybe that's payback; he researches more over the weekend, finds ever more intricate designs, and has to go out and get more paper to practice them with, dragging Mizuha out with him. He buys her some paper too after enough begging, and deigns to show her how to make a more simple design: by the end of the afternoon, any cat or dog that sat still long enough has been covered in little paper flowers, and Mizuha is gleefully running around with a chain of them in her hair. 

Another week passes of Goshiki trying his best to ignore him, generally looking conflicted when forced to be around him, and Kenjirou reaches his wits end. Let it never be said that Kenjirou is that patient. 

So, on Tuesday, he leaves an additional message with his flowers, requesting that Goshiki arrive early for practice the next day so they can talk. It doesn't get mentioned at afternoon practice, and Kenjirou goes home with a rock in his chest, still having little idea of what to say. 

His self-preservation wants to leave it alone, reminds him of how much Goshiki has annoyed him in the past, and pointed out that it can't possibly last. Goshiki will move on, or he will, and it'll break and be messy and painful and awful. It's a strong part of him, getting him through surviving with siblings, in a viciously competitive school environment, and to playing volleyball in a high level team, making him thick-skinned enough and sarcastic enough to defend himself and get through. 

But it also wants to isolate him, because reaching out is painfully awkward, and has so much potential to throw him overboard. It's never stopped him before because he's never wanted to reach out enough, but it's cost him friends for sure. 

For once though, he thinks this might be worth a bit of pain. He'll manage, he hopes, if everything goes wrong. The one thing he can count on is that he will never be as important to Goshiki as volleyball; at the very least, the team will retain its ace, and they've enough time to return to an equilibrium before a major tournament. Hopefully, anyway. 

Wednesday rolls around too fast, and he walks a little too fast to school. 

Goshiki is not waiting for him outside the gym. 

The disappointment is palpable; his shoulders drop, breath leaving his lungs in one big whoosh. He suddenly doesn't feel like practicing, studying, anything. Maybe this is what rejection feels like, a stone dropping rapidly through water. He'd thought maybe he was getting somewhere. _Maybe_ he can try and engineer a meeting with Goshiki, but that's not easy either, when they are in different floors of the school, and move in different social circles aside from volleyball. Washijo's presence ensures that nothing will get said at practice, and he doesn't want to announce it to the whole team: besides, Goshiki has been rushing off after practice just to avoid him. He's not going to ask anyone else to intervene, either. His pride won't let him. 

Shuffling in, he slowly gets the nets ready, knowing none of the words will stay still on the page or in his mind if he tries studying. It takes him about half an hour to set it all up, the snail’s pace he's working at, and thinking about whether to just give up. 

He probably should: if it's bad enough that he's managed to get _Goshiki_ to avoid him, he's misstepped pretty badly. Maybe he'd be better off putting his energy into moving on as fast as possible so this doesn't interfere with exams or tournaments, both creeping up. 

He's almost made his mind up by the time he's finished, and a few first years start trickling in. He's so close to deciding once and for all that he's just not going to bother anymore, but Goshiki walks in, and Kenjirou takes a moment to just observe. He'd normally bounce in, eager to start, or to see what Kenjirou had gotten for him. And he is still eager to start volleyball, but it's slow to return to his step, and doesn't quite reach his eyes. Goshiki is so painfully easy to read, and he reads this: total avoidance. He's not even looking at Kenjirou, such that even Washijo picks up on it; he puts them together for a three on three, and Kenjirou thinks maybe if he stops trying to interact, it'll help them both. 

So he does, but out the corner of his eye he sees Goshiki make a pained expression for a brief moment before he attempts to refocus. 

So he can't just leave it. This is all a misunderstanding, and Kenjirou can't be happy leaving it like that. 

He gets yelled at during the match. They lose. Kenjirou has never cared less about volleyball. He swivels on his heel and determinedly makes a beeline for Goshiki, heading for the bench to get a water bottle or a towel or something, and stops him with a hand on his arm. Umeda and Yunohama glance their way, as does Kawanishi, ever observant. 

"Goshiki, could you come early tomorrow morning? I have something to discuss." It's a bit too loud since he's nervous; a few more of the team turn and raise eyebrows, perhaps suspecting. He didn't want to do this, but he's been left with little choice. 

"Can't you just say it now?" Goshiki murmurs, avoiding his eyes. Kenjirou grimaces.  
"No, and you know it." Goshiki makes that conflicted face again. Kenjirou takes a breath. "Please, Goshiki." 

He's sure most of the gym are staring at them now, his face is burning, and Goshiki continues making a complicated expression. Like he wants to, but... can't. After a long pause, Goshiki sighs and mutters an 'I guess' that doesn't give him any hope. 

Kenjirou leans just a little bit closer, and in a hushed tone, whispers.  
"I never said that I wouldn't, or didn't want to. Maybe if you could just _listen_ , you'd get the full message." 

Goshiki finally looks at him again, eyes so wide it looks like they might pop out his skull, and Kenjirou can't quite stand the scrutiny from all angles.  
"I'll be there." Goshiki says; there is still a waver to his voice, still hesitant, but it's infinitely more promising than anything else he's had. His relief is such that he can't help but bow slightly, murmuring a 'thank you' and striding to the bench just for the distraction. 

Weirdly, Goshiki doesn't play so well after that, either.

* * *

It plays on his mind all day, what he's going to say, how, whether Goshiki will actually listen this time. The whole time he's fighting his sense of self preservation, the suffocating desire to just be silent and let it go quietly. But it's not fair, and he's stubborn enough to want to at least try. 

He doesn't think any of his lessons go in. He gets more yelling, three extra laps and twenty extra serves in volleyball practice, but then, so does Goshiki. He briefly entertains the idea of telling him after practice, especially with the way Goshiki is unsubtly lingering closer than he has for weeks, but equally, the gossipers of the team are also creeping closer to overhear, and he’s not sure he could actually manage to lose them with any efficacy. They will both just have to wait. 

He doesn't remember any of the walk home, and he can't think when he gets there. He's already done the homework due for tomorrow, so he makes a half-hearted start on the stuff for the day after, before finding he really can't think about anything other than whether tomorrow morning will go alright. And if it does, what that even means. He doesn't want to get ahead of himself, but equally, what if Goshiki actually says yes...? 

What comes next, after that? He doesn't know. He's afraid to find out. Afraid, but maybe a little excited too. 

But he can't think about that right now. He has one massive hurdle to get over first. 

He spends the evening with Makoto and Chika, the other two triplets - Mizuha turns up later after finishing her show upstairs. They watch trashy TV and talk shit about everyone on it, the cats decide to sit on him, and one of the dogs, Shiva, flops on his feet. It's sufficient to distract him for a time, anyway, until his older brother arrives home to find Kenjirou bossing the other three on a quiz show. 

"This is rare, you actually bothering to join us," Hajime remarks as he sits - or rather, collapses into - one of the seats, seeing as the sofa is full of cats and siblings. "Given up on university?" 

"I see you couldn't find a date for this weekend. Given up on romance?" he snidely remarks back, the fact that he’s pointed it out making him nervous again.  
"Fuck off."  
"Hajime!" Their mother shouts from the kitchen. His older brother flinches, glares at the door to make sure she isn’t watching, and flashes him a rude sign.  
“What does that sign mean, ‘Jime?” Chika pipes up innocently.  
“Hajime…” Their mother hisses warningly. Kenjirou laughs at the face his brother pulls, while the triplets look between the two of them. But just when he’d stopped, the remark has got him thinking about it again, his hands twisting into fists, and the cat eyeballs him unhappily. He returns to staring at the TV screen, but not really seeing it. Damn he hates his brother at times. 

“Nii-chan?” Mizuha murmurs – probably noticed that the arm around her had tightened. Makoto and Chika have utterly lost interest in the quiz, and make a beeline to jump on Hajime instead.  
“Hm? Oh, did you want to-?” He lifts his arm, in case that was it, but she remains as she was, twisted almost impossibly around to look at him.  
“Are you upset? You do never stay down here with us.” She says. If Kenjirou could vote one of the siblings most likely to have supernatural powers, it’d be Mizuha for her ability to seem like she’s looking into the very soul of whoever she looks at. She’s freaked out numerous guests doing that, but not him. Of the triplets, he’d rather Mizuha could look into his soul than the other two.  
“I only needed to stop thinking for a bit, that’s all.” He replies, and then really takes in her comment. “I do come down here sometimes, anyway.”  
“But you’re at school or volleyball soooooo long, and then you’re doing homework when you’re here, an’ even when you’re actually down here with us you’re on your phone!” She whines. Hajime, clearly catching at least some of the comment, snorts loudly. It takes some willpower to not make any kind of remark back or a gesture, but Mizuha averts her eyes a little bit shyly and leans closer to his ear. “Is it to do with the person you were making flowers for?” 

“Maybe.” He snaps, but the flinch gives it away. “Hey look, a question on animals, you’ll know this one.” He diverts deftly, which – thankfully – works. He mentally breathes a sigh of relief, but after dinner when the triplets are going to bed, Mizuha tugs on his sleeve. 

“Nii-chan.” She starts up again. The other two are down the hall racing for the bathroom, squabbling. He raises an eyebrow at her, but she motions for him to bend down, so he crouches. “Can I meet them?” 

He blinks, stunned, and imagines Mizuha and Goshiki actually meeting. He- would probably be really good with them, with all the triplets. He’s so childlike at times, he’d fit right in, and in that moment, Kenjirou really wants to bring him over. 

“If it goes well, maybe.” He says. Mizuha pouts at him.  
“Of course it will! Who wouldn’t love you?” She determines in that way only children can. He snorts, ruffling her hair.  
“I don’t think you’re qualified to make that decision. That’s not really how it works.”  
“I am kal-i-fied!” She pauses for a moment. “What does that mean?”  
“That you’re not the best person to say that. Not everyone loves me, Mizuha. You’re my sister, you’re practically obliged.” He returns, painfully aware of how many people don’t like him at all – too smart, too snarky. Most of them, he doesn’t care that much, but it gets to him sometimes regardless.  
“Well they should!” She asserts, hands on hips. He laughs.  
“Thank you. I’ll bear it in mind.” He pulls her into a hug, getting a squawk at the unexpected motion. “You going to wish me luck?”  
“Always!” And she hugs him as tightly as she can, and then pulls away to stare him in the eye. “But you gotta bring them home, ‘kay?” 

It’s stupid, really, but he lies in bed later and does actually feel more hopeful about the outcome. 

Not that it makes him any less nervous.

* * *

Sleeping fitfully, he gets to the gym earlier than intended, full of nervous energy. He puts it into setting the courts up, knowing full well he won’t be able to focus on anything at all. 

He’s dreading it. What if he gets the message that Goshiki has given up on him? What if he doesn’t turn up at all? What if Goshiki won’t listen again? 

It’s useless to panic, he knows that, but it doesn’t stop him. He doesn’t want to do too much and get really sweaty – as if that would be the worst thing to happen – but he has to do something, so he starts in on practicing serves. He’s able to focus on that for a time, the rhythm, but then trying jump serves starts him thinking on Goshiki again, and he stops. He gets some homework out, acutely aware of the minutes passing by, and stares at a blank page, every few seconds trying to start and getting nowhere. 

And then, a shuffling from outside – probably just the wind, he thinks, but his heart starts going faster regardless, and he tries to focus again-

But he snaps immediately to attention when the door slides open, holding his breath- but it's only Kawanishi, and his face falls. Kawanishi sneers at him. 

"Please don't look quite so unimpressed." He remarks, sliding the door shut behind him. 

"You're not very impressive to look at, apologies and so on."  
"Sorry I'm not your boyfriend."  
"He's not my boyfriend."  
"Yet." Kawanishi mutters, and when Kenjirou opens his mouth - "we all know he's going to say yes."  
"You don't know what I'm saying to him."  
"Hence, me." Kawanishi gestures to himself. "You should be thanking me. I promised to report, else the rest of them would be here eavesdropping." 

It is- only marginally better than any of the others. Although he doesn’t think Kawanishi has told anyone else what he’d seen before, Kenjirou is not willing to rely on that altruism longer term. He ought to have worried about it before, really.  
"I'm going to presume you can be bribed. What's the price of your silence?" He enquires, putting his pencil down. Kawanishi looks thoughtful as he puts a water bottle and towel on the bench, then strides over to the corner Kenjirou is occupying.  
“Months’ worth of ramen?” He suggests, and Kenjirou wrinkles his nose, mentally calculating the cost.  
“A week, max. You’ll get fat if I give you a month.” He replies. Kawanishi sneers at him.  
“Thanks. Fortnight, no lower. And not the instant stuff, I know you’d do that if you could.” He holds his hand out to shake on it. Kenjirou considers it. A fortnight, he might be able to do. Truthfully, he’d not thought about any ways to get around the full deal, but he can probably think of some anyway. 

“Fine, but it won’t be every day.” He says as he reluctantly shakes Kawanishi’s hand, who grins.  
“Nice one. I’ll be over here, don’t mind me!” he says, an irritating levity in his voice as he nigh on skips back over to the bench near the door, and calls out. “You can come in now!” 

Kenjirou revises his murder plots in his head. The door slides open just a little, and a familiar black mop of hair pokes around, and catches his eye. 

Kenjirou stands up, not knowing what else to do. Kawanishi snickers, and Kenjirou really wants to wring his neck. Did he set this up? Is Goshiki only here because Kawanishi is? He feels like dying inside.  
But. Kenjirou is not a coward. Scowling at Kawanishi, he strides over to drag Goshiki to a separate corner of the gym, but when he goes to grab his wrist, he tugs it out of reach.  
"What did you want to say?" Goshiki says instead of explaining anything.  
"Can we talk somewhere else? Somewhere-" _without Kawanishi_ "quieter?" 

"Hmmm..." Goshiki looks conflicted, eyes darting over to Kawanishi, sat smugly on the bench, not even hiding the fact that he's watching, and listening to every word. "This is quiet enough, though?" 

Kenjirou hisses through his teeth. He closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath in. And turns to Kawanishi. 

"Can you at least _pretend_ you're not listening in?" He says, and just as he sees Kawanishi on the point of refusing, "I will buy you drinks for a week." 

Kawanishi considers it. Goshiki shifts, uncomfortable.  
"Does it have to be quiet?" Goshiki murmurs. "I can't be quiet about anything. You said so yourself." 

Kenjirou hisses.  
"Right. You," he snaps, pointing at Kawanishi, "at least turn around. And you." He turns back to Goshiki. "It's called being open about it on my, our, terms. We get to choose when we tell people." He starts, and then realises that it sounds like he's already agreed to something Kenjirou hasn't even said yet. He groans morosely. How is this going so wrong? 

"'We'?" Goshiki echoes, dumbfounded. 

"Let me start again. When I said I can't date you, I meant that I couldn't in the way I should date you." The face Goshiki makes at that is- intriguing to say the least.  
"What...?"  
Now, Kenjirou feels his face go hot. Geez this is so embarrassing. He should have done more to keep it secret, but then Goshiki might not be here if things hadn't gone like they did.  
"Taking you out on dates and such. I don't have much time, and you live in the opposite direction." Kenjirou states bluntly. "Additionally, I'm leaving in a few months. And not to a university near here." 

"You're leaving Miyagi?" The both of them chorus. He forgets he hasn't told anyone.  
"My first choice is Kyodai..." He fields hesitantly. He's pretty sure he's going to get in, but then, what he thinks doesn't always happen. Here in front of him is a prime example. 

"Kyoto?! That's so far!" Goshiki whines, and Kenjirou just thinks that that's his point made.  
"So. I'm going to be over in Kyoto, and you're going to be up here. Do you really want something like that?" 

"What do you mean?" Goshiki asks and damn Kenjirou likes him but damn is he thick sometimes.  
"So I'll be in Kyoto. You'll be here. I doubt you want a b- partner so far away. It'd be easier to find someone else who is closer." 

It sums down to that he doubts Goshiki would really have the patience to deal with him and his moods from halfway across Japan. He starts to regret ever making this effort, a lump in his throat growing with every second passing of watching Goshiki's puzzled frown. 

"But why does that matter?" Goshiki asks eventually.  
"Because you don't want a long distance relationship." He snaps, nerves putting him further on edge. How is he not getting it? Kenjirou is snappish and curt on texts, over the phone. It's only in person he can let his guard down, and even then, he's never found it easy. When body language is his most reliable true communication, how is it meant to do anything but fall apart? 

"Why are you deciding that for me?" Goshiki says, but doesn't wait for an answer. "There's phones, and video calls. There are trains and planes. I can _get_ there, if you'd just let me! Just tell me what you want!" 

"Can't you tell?!" Kenjirou nigh on screeches. "I wouldn't have done anything if I didn't want this. I wouldn't have let you kiss me, you idiot!" 

"Then there's no problem!" Goshiki chirps. Kenjirou just stares at him. "If we both want to date, we'll make it work!"  
"That's not how..." He starts, but Goshiki sends him a blinding grin rather than let him finish.  
"If we get to choose how and when to tell people, we get to decide if it survives, right? Even if you're all the way over in Kyoto, I choose for this to survive!" He states, merrily, as though saying it alone can solve the multitude of problems. 

Maybe it can. Kenjirou has never tried that approach. Part of him wants to argue, but another part is- happy. Happy he fought, happy he waded through this quagmire of awkward to get to some result he's pretty pleased with. Happy Goshiki wants to even try and overcome those problems for him. _Him_ , prickly snarky him. 

"I guess if that's a choice, I choose that too." He muses. Maybe that is how it works. 

Goshiki beams.  
"So you're my boyfriend now then?!" He's bouncing on his heels, eyes glittering in excitement. Kenjirou snorts, but he can't help his lips twitching up into a smile. 

"Guess I am." He murmurs, then yelps as Goshiki dives forward with an unnerving speed. He thinks he's going to get kissed, anticipating the blow, but it ends up being a hug, or rather, a tackle. His feet leave the ground as Goshiki twirls them both around, squashing him tightly. Kenjirou can barely breathe at all. 

Somehow, he's not _too_ upset. 

He’s dizzy when Goshiki finally stops spinning and puts him down, pulling back far enough to grin at him widely, his arms still slung around his waist. It’s blinding. His eyes are glittering with glee.  
“I love you, Shirabu.” He says, crystal clear and to the point, and nothing has ever seemed more _Goshiki_ than that. Kenjirou huffs a laugh, his face growing warm and a smile seeping onto his lips, unable to hide it.  
“I tolerate you,” he murmurs back, and Goshiki snorts.  
“You love me really!” Goshiki returns. Kenjirou can’t stand to look at him in embarrassment, and presses his forehead to his shoulder. Hidden there, he grins ecstatically.  
“Maybe… I’m not so averse to that…” he whispers to himself. Goshiki seems to get the point, hugging him closer still, and pressing a kiss to his hair. Kenjirou feels like melting, but then, he doesn’t want that. He wants to see where this takes them. 

“Alright, alright, hate to break it up – yikes guys – but if you don’t want the others to see you probably better sort yourselves out now.” 

Kenjirou flashes a rude sign at Kawanishi, who huffs, sounding not quite as disgusted, nor as insulted as he probably could have done. Goshiki pulls back again, just enough to look him in the eye, still beaming.  
“Oh yeah! You never told me! What _is_ your favourite flower?”  
“Did I never say?” Kenjirou asks. He’d forgotten that information, all told. He’s starting to think, however sappy, that any flower from Goshiki could well be his favourite. Goshiki shakes his head though.  
“Nope!”  
“Oh. Well, it’s forgot-me-nots, probably.” He remarks, and Goshiki laughs.  
“That’s not very flashy at all! I thought you were gonna say something impossible to get like Rafflesia!” Kenjirou snorts. It probably fits his personality better, but he doesn’t want one in his room, at all. “I can do that! And I won’t forget, either. Hey, wanna go see a movie next week?” he asks, so bright that Kenjirou just wants to say yes. However…  
“Try again, I haven’t got time for that. Study time in a café instead?” 

Goshiki pouts, almost comically.  
“But I won’t be able to hold your hand…”  
“I’m sure you’ll get over it soon enough.” Kenjirou muses.  
“But if you’re going to Kyoto!” Goshiki complains loudly.  
“If you and I can study while holding hands, then maybe. But it’s impossible.”  
“I’ll find a way!” 

“Oh my _god_ , guys. ‘Sides, Yunohama is just arriving, he’s texted, he’s getting off the bus.” Kawanishi interjects, and Kenjirou mostly believes him. Maybe at some point he’ll tell the team, but until then it can be an unsaid thing; he separates from Goshiki to start putting his homework away. He can’t help himself smiling, all through practice, every time he catches a glimpse of Goshiki, who is even more vibrant than usual, and thinks, that between them, maybe they can choose for this to survive, and make it work. 

But he’ll just have to see. After all, he’s got a lot to look forwards to, now.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! I don't quite know where this sprung from, but I kind of quite like it, so I'm posting it. Hope you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> It may also amuse you that I was trying to tag his mum, and it for some reason decided to tag as 'Sherlock Holmes' mother'. I mean, it may not be mutually exclusive, I don't know, but it's not exactly what I was going for, AO3...


End file.
